Come Back to Me
by ScrawledAcrossThePage
Summary: Bree's life hasn't exactly been easy. She has gone through quite a lot actually. But now, she's going through something that's so difficult, she's not sure how to handle it...


**A/N: Wow! So glad I'm FINALLY posting this! :DD Just wanted to say that this story is dedicated to my awesome, amazing, super-duper friend Lauren!!!!!! (xoCupcakexo) Make sure you check out her fanfics to! They're great! Without her, I never would've been inspired to write this!! :D! So THANKS Lauren! This one is for you! Enjoy guys(:**

_Come Back to Me_

Silence.

That is what she heard as she made her way up the stairs.

Bitterness.

That is what she tasted in her mouth as she walked down the hallway.

Darkness.

That is what she saw stretched out before her emerald eyes.

Emptiness.

That is what she felt as she entered the doorway of her room. She walked over to her bed, pulled the covers down, and slid underneath, wrapping them up around her shoulders for warmth.

Alone.

That is what she was.

***

The sunlight managed to sift through the blinds, setting her pale face aglow. The light against her closed eyelids was enough to stir her out of her slumber. She mechanically brought herself to an upright position, and swung her legs around so that her bare feet hung over the side. Using her arms to push her up and off the bed, she walked over to her dresser and selected a knee-length black skirt and a champagne colored silk blouse. After slipping into both, she proceeded to walk over to her vanity to do something with her hair in order to tame the mass of red knots that was a result of her constant tossing and turning throughout the night. After a few failed, half-hearted attempts, she sighed and settled on a sloppy ponytail in a non-typical Bree fashion. Looking in the mirror to appease herself, she noted the contrast between her hair and attire, and was surprised to realize that she didn't even care. She gazed into her eyes that were staring back at her; she saw the sparkle that was normally there gone, instead replaced by a haunting darkness. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and did not reopen them until she had turned herself away from the mirror. The last thing she needed was yet another reminder of how her life had gone horribly wrong. She strode briskly out of her bedroom, which was suddenly feeling claustrophobic to her.

As Bree was slowly walking down the stairs, the patting of her bare feet falling upon the glazed wood being the only sound in the house, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. There was actually a gnawing pain festering in the pit of her stomach. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had ate; all the days of suffering and misery had started to blur together. She heaved a deep sigh as she entered the kitchen to make herself something to relinquish her hunger.

She used to love to get up and make herself a nice breakfast; pancakes with homemade maple syrup and a pinch of sugar, fresh, crisp croissants with her very own churned butter, a splay of handpicked fruit with whipped cream. But now, it seemed like such a chore.

Bree pulled out a chair from the dining room table with a loud squeak and sat down. She stared at the slightly burnt piece of toast, the first one she had burnt since being newly married to Rex, with 'I can't believe it's not Butter' spread upon it. She wrinkled her nose; even now, at the lowest point in her life, appalled that some people could actually eat this. She tilted her head up, and stared around at the empty chairs, feeling a tugging sadness in her heart. Many people had sat in these chairs over the years. Each now had a thin coating of dust. Bree barely noticed. She looked over to her left from her spot at the head of the table.

_Andrew_.

His devilish sarcasm, smartass remarks, and crude humor.

The thought of him made her want to cry. He hardly visited her anymore, and he lived a mere walking distance away.

She inclined her head a bit, and stared at the spot her daughter had usually sat in.

_Danielle_.

Her irresponsibility, her selfish manner, her sulking tone.

The thought of her ripped at the few fragile remains of her heart.

She stared straight across, out to the opposite head of the table. Many had resided that place throughout the span of her residence in that blue house on that "quiet" street.

_Rex_.

Her first husband. 18 years of her life had been spent with this man. Some glorious, filled with love and laughter and joy. Some hellish, filled with repressed feelings, lies, and secrets. But she had always loved him.

She remembered the night he had proposed.

_They were sharing dinner at a rather fancy joint; a five star Italian restaurant the next town over, both sipping from their glasses filled with apple wine, which he had requested for her special since he knew it was her favorite. He fed her a joke he had heard out on the golf course earlier that day, and when he saw her eyes light up with laughter, and her face glowing with happiness, he knew it was now or never. So, even though she was engaged to Ty Grant, he decided to give it a shot. He got down on one knee, pulled the little black box out of his jacket pocket, and spoke the words that came from deep within his heart, the most natural thing in the world in that moment. "Bree Mason, if you marry me, I promise to love you forever." She stared at him for a moment, and then uttered one single word that she knew would change her whole life._

_Yes._

_Regardless of Ty, regardless of what her parents would think, what her friends would say, she said yes. Because she knew, in that moment, that this was the start of her happily ever after._

Bree snorted. So much for that.

_George_.

She remembered him well. He wasn't the kind of man one could forget, after all. He was friendly, kind, and handsome. He had loved her, worshipped her…stalked her. Murdered her husband. Had a life sized doll of her in his bedroom…

She remembered that day at the park.

_They had been sitting there on the blanket, sharing a wonderful picnic in the dappled sunshine, something that she could never get Rex to do with her. George told her that he had a surprise for her. She told him that she couldn't accept anymore gifts from him_, _given the extravagance of the orchids that he had already granted her with, but he insisted that this particular gift had not cost him a dime. He presented her with a box wrapped in floral paper, with a beautiful green bow tied around it, which she slowly lifted the lid off of. She had gasped in pure shock and delight, stunned and ecstatic all at the same time. She lifted the 9 millimeter Lugar PO8 out of the box with the utmost care, gazing at it longingly. The fact that it was a valuable antique, and that it had been lent to him from his grandfather who had received it during the war, made the gift all the more meaningful to her. When he had put his hand on her left thigh, she reached down and placed her hand on top of it without giving it a second thought. _

_She remembered thinking later, that maybe, just maybe, someday this man would be her happily ever after. _

_Less then a year later, she let him die right in front of her eyes. _

Bree wiped a tear from her face that had managed to escape her eyes. She hated dwelling on her tortured relationship history. And tortured it was…

_Peter McMillan._

He had problems. Numerous problems. But so did she. She was an alcoholic in desperate need for some help and guidance. And he was always there for her; he never judged her. She was always happy with him, because he was the only one who could even begin to understand what she was going through. She remembered that one fateful day, right in her very own house, that had shattered everything.

_Andrew had called her, frantically claiming that there was an emergency, and that she needed to come home immediately. She drove home as fast as she could, all the while wishing that Peter were with her; he always knew how to calm her down, and just what to do and what to say. It sort of made her think that he could be her happily ever after…_

_Not five minutes later, she discovered that Peter, her happily ever after, had slept with her son._

Bree blinked a few times, refusing to let the tears escape again. She bit her lip in a desperate attempt to fight back a sob. She knew the man she had met next. How could she forget? But she didn't think of him. Not even for a moment. Instead, she thought of someone else; a rude, tawdry pig of a man, one who was often selfish and vulgar…a man whom she had loved.

_Karl Mayer._

She remembered a lot of things about this man. She remembered the first night they had spent together, when he had given her his grandmother's broach, the first time he proposed, the second time he never had the chance to…

But the thing she remembered most was the plane.

He was supposed to be her happily ever after; her fairytale ending, her knight in shining armor. Wishful thinking, she supposed.

Bree looked down at the burnt piece of toast.

_"What the hell," _she thought.

She picked it up.

And she took a bite.

Because at this point, it didn't really matter.

***

"Yes, I'd like to report a missing person."

"Name?"

"My name is Bree Hodge, and the name of the man who is missing, my husband, is Orson Hodge."

"How long has he been missing?"

"Oh, a few days maybe…"

"Could you tell me where he was last seen?"

"4354 Wisteria Lane, our house."

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"No."

"Okay. What happened right before he was discovered missing?"

"I wasn't home at the time, I don't recall what happened before I left."

"Okay, can you give me a physical description?"

"Dark brown hair with a bit of gray thrown in, not to short, but not to long either…" She hesitated for a moment. "…chocolate brown eyes, handsome, a smile that's to die for…"

"Can you tell me anything else?"

"No."

"Thank you. We'll send someone over as soon as possible."

"No, that won't be necessary."

"Pardon?"

"I don't need anyone to come over. That will be all, thank you."

Bree clicked the phone into the receiver as the tears slid down her cheeks.

She couldn't take this.

She needed it to end.

She slowly walked over to one of the drawers in her kitchen. She gently grasped the wooden knob, and pulled it open.

A large steak knife gleamed in the afternoon sun that was shining through the windows, making small rainbows dance in front of her eyes.

"So beautiful…" she murmured aloud to herself. With that, she reached her hand out to clutch the black handle. She brought the tip of the knife in direct contact with her chest…with her now dieing heart. She closed her eyes, and whispered ever so softly, "I'm sorry." She wasn't sure who in particular she was saying it to.

Everyone perhaps. Except to herself.

She plunged the knife into her heart with one quick motion.

It was finally over.

***

She was to terrified to open her eyes.

Where would she be?

Would she be in hell? Surely that's what she deserved; to live, or not to live, in a place of hatred, darkness, and misery. So basically, it'd be like the place she had just tried to escape.

Fantastic.

She knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She slowly lifted each eyelid open, little by little. She stared around at the familiar surroundings of her bedroom.

She wasn't sure if she was happy to see it…or disappointed.

She wiped away the sweat that had collected on her forehead, and once again closed her eyes, thinking that she never should've opened them.

***

She was sitting at the dining room table once again, this time eating a waffle with freezer burn on it.

She had lied to the police.

It hadn't been a few days.

It had been a few weeks.

A few weeks since Orson had left.

A few weeks since her life had ended.

She knew she couldn't go on like this much longer.

The last part of her dream, the part that hadn't actually happened in reality, was starting to sound better and better each day.

She couldn't take the lies anymore. Telling her closest friends in the entire world that Orson was away on a golf retreat with his buddies, and that he was due home shortly.

Or telling herself the exact same thing.

It wasn't healthy.

And she knew that.

But she knew deep down, that she didn't have a choice.

He had left because of her.

It was all her fault.

Everything was her fault.

The least she could do was make up a plausible excuse to explain his absence to their friends and neighbors. She didn't need them to be burdened with this as well.

The police had called a few minutes ago to tell her that they still hadn't found any leads as to where Orson may be. Just what she needed to brighten her mood.

She clenched her fists. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath came out quick and brief.

She needed to get out of this house before she did something incredibly stupid that she was sure, or rather she hoped, she would later regret.

She flew up the stairs and raced into her room to throw on a pair of jeans and a shirt, so that she at least appeared like she was still functioning normally.

The piece of crinkled paper lying on her dresser caught her eye for a brief moment. She stalked over to it, yanked it from its resting spot, causing it to crumple, and threw it down with such force into the wastebasket that she felt a quick stab of pain in her shoulder. A stab of pain that she barely noticed…which scared the hell out of her.

Wiping the salty tears away as she went, she walked down the stairs and out the door, onto Wisteria Lane. The normal sunshine that shone down on the rose gardens and white picket fences was gone; only black storm clouds were in the sky on this particular day.

How fitting.

Bree didn't have a set plan as to where she was going, but her feet seemed to be taking her to the house of the blonde mother of four, soon to be five.

Lynette.

One of her best friends, whom she had been through so much with. But their friendship had always endured. She would be forever grateful for whoever had allowed Lynette to be brought into her life. This amazing woman was the one who had made Bree truly realize she had a serious drinking problem, for which she owed her life to her.

But Lynette hadn't expected any sort of favor back in return. Seeing her friend get the help that she so desperately needed had been more than enough.

Bree walked up to the door, and gave it three quick knocks. She was focusing on getting her breathing under control as the blonde walked down the stairs to see who had knocked. She glanced out the window, and saw a particularly distraught looking Bree, who looked like she was concentrating on something very hard. The darkness in her eyes scared the heck out of Lynette, and she quickly yanked the door open, setting a small smile on her face as she did so.

"Hey Bree," she said with false cheerfulness, determined to let her friend open up to her in the way that was easiest for her…when she was good and ready.

Bree made a feeble attempt to plaster a smile on her face. "Hi, Lynette. Are you busy?"

"No, not at all, come on in. Can I get you anything?"

Bree stepped into her friend's house, and walked over to the dining room table that her and the girls often played poker at, and pulled out a chair to sit in. "No, I don't need anything, thank you."

"Alright."

An awkward silence fell over the two friends; Bree was looking down at her hands that were neatly folded in her lap, and Lynette was trying to think of a conversation starter. She looked around the room, trying to come up with at least _something_ to say. The silence was smothering.

As she looked down at her socked feet, she said the first thing that came to mind.

"So, this morning, I went over to Gaby's just to chat, and little Celia was pulling her red wagon with at least a gazillion _rocks_ in it of all things around the front yard, and what do ya' know, just as I'm walking past her, she chooses that moment to bolt forward, and, well…you can see for yourself.

Lynette pulled off her sock to show the ginger the angry red mark that stretched from one side of her foot to the other.

"Gosh Lynette, that looks like it must've hurt!"

_I bet it hurt when Orson ran over Mike, too._

"Yeah, it really did…" she said carefully; a strange look had passed across Bree's face, only for it to disappear a second later.

_Don't think about that. You've kept these thoughts buried for so long now…don't let them slip through the cracks._

Bree needed to distract herself. "Anything else…exciting happen today?"

"No, not really. Dancing with the Stars comes back tonight, so, ya know, that's exciting." In reality, Lynette hated shows like that, but she needed to keep making small talk until Bree was ready to open up to her about what was really going on.

_Orson used to dance with me in the living room, in preparation for our first dance as husband and wife._

_Dammit!_

She wasn't sure which memory had been harder to bare…the bad one, or the good one.

Bree smiled. "That certainly is exciting."

Lynette looked down at her bulging stomach. "I am _never_ going to be able to where lingerie _ever_ again for Tom with the stretch marks I'm going to end up with this time around."

Bree mustered up a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure Tom won't even notice."

"Oh sure he will, he's a guy! I'll have to constantly worrying about covering them up…another perk of being pregnant!"

_Orson had covered up Monique's murder._

_But…he had also covered up my fake pregnancy, despite the increasing difficulty of the situation._

Suddenly, all the barriers she had worked on building around her heart and mind for the last week broke…and a flood of emotion and memories came flooding in.

She needed to get out of there.

And fast.

She wasn't going to break down in front of her friend.

She refused to.

She knew that Lynette wouldn't judge her.

But she needed to be alone.

She didn't want to burden this suffering on anybody else.

"Well, this has been a lovely little chat Lynette. I'm afraid I must be going now, though. Goodbye." She threw a tight lipped smile her way.

Bree stood up with one fluid motion and turned on her heel. The second Lynette couldn't see her face anymore, she let the smile fall from her face. The effort was just too much.

"Bree!" Lynette called rather frantically. She knew her friend well enough to know that she was keeping something from her, something big…but she also knew her well enough to know that she needed to be left alone right now. Lynette watched as she ran out through the door, and silently prayed, something she rarely did, that she would be okay.

Bree stepped onto the Scavo's porch, and looked at the rain coming down all around her. It didn't rain often on Wisteria Lane, but when it did…it poured.

_They were running through the rain that was pounding down on the street, running back to the house after a blissful first date. Her orange blouse clung to her, and she couldn't help but notice the way that Orson looked approvingly at it. Suddenly, they both stopped and looked at each for a moment, and leaned in to share a brief, yet passionate first kiss._

_It had been magical._

If someone had been looking at Bree at that moment, they probably wouldn't have noticed that tears were streaming down her face due to the rain that was falling all around her. But no one was looking.

She was alone.

She raced across Wisteria Lane, nearly slipping a few times as she crossed the perfectly paved street. As she ran across the grass of her front yard, she once again lost her balance, but this time she was unable to manage to keep herself upright. She fell down upon the now wet, muddy grass, and put her head in her hands as she sobbed.

_Why God, why?_

Bree stayed there on the grass, while the rainstorm raged around her, for a good half an hour. By the time she struggled to pull herself up and stumble into the house, she was sopping wet, sneezing, and chilled to the bone. She walked up the stairs and towards her bedroom, not even bothering to remove her shoes first.

She walked into her room with the intentions of curling under the blankets and trying to drown out the rain by sleeping, but her eyes were drawn to the crumpled piece of paper like a magnet. Bree sighed as she made her way over to the waste basket and leaned down to pick it up. She walked over to her bed, and slowly climbed under the covers to read the letter for what she knew would be the last time. She knew she had to get rid of it after this.

Dearest Bree,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. Do not expect to see me again, for I will not be coming back, not ever. I do not want you to worry about me, please just take care of yourself. You're a strong woman, and I know you can certainly handle yourself.

I suppose I should tell you…I have gone to commit suicide. There, I said it. I will not say sorry for my decision; it is best for both of us. You can move on with your life, and I can move on with mine. I can't stay stuck in that house with you, loving you so very much on the inside, knowing that my love isn't enough, and that you do not love me back. In order to move on, I have to leave…for good. I am nothing without you, and I am not ashamed to admit that.

Do not blame yourself, love. I do not blame you in the slightest. It is not your fault that you do not love me, and I know that. I want you to move on and be happy. I hope that you'll promise yourself that you will.

I only ask that you do me one favor. Call the police, and report me missing. I do not want anyone to know that I have gone to kill myself; it is nobody's business. I want to go alone, and utterly alone, and in order for me to do that, I need no one to know. Except for you. After the numerous lies I've told you throughout our marriage, I couldn't bear to do it again.

Live well, my darling.

With love,

Orson

She tore the letter in half, and watched as the scraps of his superb penmanship fell to the floor. The fact that he thought that she could just move on with her life without him…it killed her.

"Come back to me Orson. Please." She choked out as the sobs wracked her body. "Don't leave. Stay…with me."

Bree would give anything for Orson to be able to hear her desperate pleas in that moment, to let him know how much he meant to her…how much she loved him. How she had never truly stopped loving him. She had simply lost sight of it. But it had always been there. It may have been dimmed a bit these past few months, but it had never burnt out completely. Not ever.

Bree slid fully under the covers now, pulling them up so they covered her head, and in the confined space, she continued to cry for a long while. Once she had finally started to calm down, she had a lot of time to think. Thinking wasn't a good thing for Bree. It made her realize all the mistakes she had made in her life, none of which she could fix, no matter how much she wanted to. She convinced herself that she deserved everything that had happened to her; that she was a bad person who had rightfully earned every little thing that had caused her pain over the years. She knew that if Orson were here, he would be telling her that that was nonsense, and absolutely not true. That she _was_ a good person, and that she should try and look at all of the bad things in a new light…after all, without them, they never would've found each other.

The doorbell suddenly rang, but Bree chose to ignore it, as she was _not_ in the mood for company at the moment. But when it continued to ring every few minutes, she eventually cursed aloud and yanked the covers off her body. Still pretty damp from being out in the rain, she walked downstairs to answer the front door, not even thinking about her appearance. She knew her eyes were probably red and puffy, and that her lower half was probably caked with mud…but she honestly didn't care.

She took a shaky breath as she grasped the door knob, and then slowly pulled it open.

The man at the door sighed in relief. "Bree, I understand if you don't want me to come in the house, I just…"

He was suddenly cut off as he felt arms wrap around his neck and lips pressed firmly against his own. He staggered for a moment before regaining his balance and placing his hand at the small of Bree's back. Bree pulled back and looked at him again, as if to make sure he wasn't a mirage.

"Orson…I can't believe…that you're…and…and…" she choked out between sobs.

"Bree…oh God, Bree, I expected you to slam the door in my face, but…this was just so much better."

Bree sobbed uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry Orson! Really, I am. I'm just…"

"Shh," he gently soothed. "It's okay Bree."

"No, it's not! I love you so _so_ much Orson, and I'm not sure I can ever express to you just how much. I'm so sorry for hurting you, and for making you think I didn't love you. Because I _did. _I _do._ I never stopped loving you Orson. Not even for a moment. And then when you left without warning, and I found that letter…" Bree suddenly dissolved into tears, and a pained expression flashed across her face. "You're not still going to…"

Orson silenced her by placing one of his fingers softly up against her lips. Bree moved her hand to gently run her fingers through his dripping wet hair. "To be honest, I only came back because…well…I needed to see you, just one more time. But now…Bree, do you really mean it? Do you honestly still love me?" Bree started to speak, but he silenced her once more. "I don't want you to tell me that just so I won't kill myself, Bree. That would just hurt even more. If you don't love me, just say so, and I'll go away, and you won't ever have to worry about me coming back."

Bree's hand had stilled its motion in Orson's hair. She was appalled at herself; how on earth had she ever made Orson think that any of that could be true? That she could actually have _stopped_ loving him?

Bree looked directly into his eyes, and held his gaze for a long moment. Tears still welled in her eyes, and her voice was shaky due to the fact that she was overcome with emotions, and also because it was so cold outside.

"Orson Hodge. I am telling you this from the very bottom of my heart. No, not just the bottom…my entire heart. I love you. I loved you when I married you. I loved you when I found out you ran over Mike. I loved you when I was with Karl; I just hadn't realized it at the time. But I realize it now. I've _always _loved you, and I _always_ will…forever and always."

This time, it was Orson's eyes that welled up with tears as he rubbed his hand up and down Bree's arms to warm her up, and suddenly wrapped his arms around her tightly, afraid to let go. He vowed in that very moment to never leave her again.

They stayed there for a long while, kissing in the rain, just like they had after their first date. They poured all of the love they had for each other, all of the love they had _always_ had for each other out in those kisses. And it was magical.

As Bree stood on her porch as the rainstorm raged around her, sopping wet, shivering, with mud stained knees and hair a mess, she thought to herself that _this_ was her happily ever after.

**A/N: Reviews would just make my day! (: Hope everyone enjoyed! OH, and the title comes from episode 1x10 of, yup, you guessed it, Desperate Housewives!**


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